


Lions and a Serpent -- Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

by musingpredilection



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dark Arts, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Smut, My First Smut, Reader-Insert, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 03:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18189452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingpredilection/pseuds/musingpredilection
Summary: Raise to be fiercely loyal to family, you find yourself defying all odds as you raise hell with the Weasley twins since the Hogwarts Express First Year.  But childish antics have come to a close… The Triwizard Tournament brought the return of the Dark Lord, and your family has been summoned to his side.  Will you continue to flit around with the Weasleys, who have been your refuge, who have taught you to be just and fair, who have instilled a love of fun in you?





	Lions and a Serpent -- Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

**Author's Note:**

> There are slight scenes with torture of Dark Arts, some profanity, and one scene with smut (labeled, so you can skip it if you want!) Basically this whole thing is angst! Enjoy?!… Also, sorry I’m neglecting Cedric Diggory… :/

## 6th Year

    Upon the announcement of the Yule Ball, a pit begins to form in your stomach.  The time has come to choose.  Currently you are dating Fred Weasley, but officially you have been promised to Xander Rabastan Lestrange.  On one side of the coin, a cheery red headed boy flashes a boyish grin.  He’s taught you how to laugh over the last five years.  He’s instilled fairness and justice deep into your mind.  He’s grown up with you, from fumbling children eleven years aged to devoted sixteen year olds.  And, he has, dare you say it, loved you unfailingly.  The other side of the coin, your family gazes deep into your soul.  Your father demands an absolute perfection, while your mother elicits silent strength in you, and your brother ignites a protective intensity.  You heart is filled with potent loyalty.

    Fred nudges you saying, “Dress pretty for the Ball, and maybe I’ll find dress robes that some old guy died in.”  You can’t help but chuckle.  He always has a way of pulling you out of your head.  “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun.”  He flashes that Weasley smirk your direction, before turning his head back towards Dumbledore for further announcements.

    Well, which one is it? You mind inquires.  You heart pulls in two.  Sometimes challenging, the “love” of a sixteen year old boy, isn’t that just lust and hormones?  It interjects with a strain of loyalty to family.  The other questions the ideal of your family and pleads for fairness and justice.

    The students all gather around while the older students put their names in.  Several girls from the Beauxbatons throw a parchment with their name in.  Xander Lestrange, whispers in your ear, before putting his in.  Students cheer.  A few other Hogwarts put theirs in, including the beloved Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory.

    Those around you begin to cheer, as two red headed boys run in waying parchments and potions tubes.  The boys are cheering “Yyyyessss!”  They accept high-fives, saying “Thank you, thank you.”

    “Well lads, we’ve done it.”

    “Cooked it up this morning.”

    You chuckle as Hermione singsongs.  “It’s not going to work.”

    “Oh yeah”

   “And, why’s that, Granger?”

    “There’s an age line, you bosos.” you say.  “Dumbledore drew it himself.”

    “Yeah, a genius like Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be fooled by a dode as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion.” Hermione scoffs.

    “Ah, but that’s why it’s so Brilliant.” remarks Fred.

    “Because it’s so pathetically dimwitted.” says George.

    “Ready Fred?”

    “Hold on a sec.”  He leans over to you and kiss you deep.  “Ok, ready George.”

   As they both shake their potions tubes, you smirk.  “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, Fred.”

   “Bottoms up.” They link arms and drink the potion.  Once jumping into the circle, nothing happens.  “YES!” they says together as students cheer.  They laugh and cheer.

   Fred turns to you and winks.  “When I get eternal fame, I’ll be thanking you for that kiss.”  You simply roll your eyes.

   When they put their parchments in, at first it seems to be just the same as the others.  The twins cheers, just in time for the blue flame to circle around.  Students screech around, “Aaaah!”  And the red heads are flung from the circle by the flame.  Soon white hair and beards start forming.  They break out into a fight, blaming one another.  You and Hermione just sit down next to each other.  She pulls out a book, and you recline back.

   The fight abruptly stops as Viktor Krum walks in to put his name into the Goblet of Fire.  He glances over at the two of you as he puts his parchment in.

   “He seems to have eyes for you.” you say when he turns his back and walks out.

   “No, pfft.” Hermione closes her book swiftly.  “It’s you he was looking at.”

   “No, you’re the one he made eye contact with.”

    Later that evening, the bell tolls signalling the start of the ceremony.  “Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the champion selection.” Dumbledore booms.  You sit in anticipation next Fred.  Dumbledore dims the basins of fire, allowing the blue flame emitting from the goblet, to cast suspense on the room.  

    The names flicker out of a red flame on a piece of parchment burnt around the edges.  The blue flame promptly returns upon release of the parchment.  Deep voices that belong to boys in fur coats congratulate Viktor Krum as their champion.  He steps down and shakes Dumbledore’s hand before departing to the back room.  The Beauxbatons champion comes out on a fanlike parchment declaring Fleur Delacour.  The moment everyone has been waiting for is finally here, the announcement of the Hogwarts, it once again flies out on a piece of parchment.  

   Dumbledore opens the small slit of paper, “Xander Lestrange!” he declares.  The Slytherin table erupts in cheers, as does most of Hogwarts.  Definitely not the favorite choice, but nonetheless, he is representing Hogwarts.  He glances over at you sitting between the Weasley twins as he makes his way over to Dumbledore.

   Just as the Triwizard Cup is revealed and the ceremony is coming to a conclusion, the blue flame diminishes leaving a red flame.  Another champion.  Confused, Dumbledore mutters the name.  “Harry Potter.”  He begins to repeat his name, growing angrier and angrier.

   “Go on Harry.” you coax, confused as the rest of the room.

    “Harry for goodness sake.” Hermione shoves him up.

    Dumbledore ushers him into the back room.  The students make snide comments, confused comments.  His face shouts bewilderment.  Later it is announced that although not seventeen, Harry Potter will participate in the Triwizard Tournament.

* * *

     “I will not be made to be a fool, Fred Weasley.”  you bellow walking into the Great Hall, followed by a redheaded and red-faced twin.  Your green trimmed robes flow behind you.  You just saw Fred talking to Angelina Johnson, again.  Perfect time.  

    “Y/N, there’s nothing going on.” he assures.

    “That’s bullshit, Fred.  I know what I saw.  You make eyes at her, and she swoons.”

    “We were just talking about Harry’s chances in the tournament.  We weren’t… I didn’t make… She wasn’t…” he sputters, as people begin to eavesdrop.

    Out of the corner of your eye, you locate Draco snorting at the argument.  “Fred,” you begin.  It’s perfect timing.  You’ve made your choice.  Time to execu…

    “Y/N, can we continue this someone else?”  he asks lowly, “perhaps with less prying eyes.”

    And there.  He’s left himself wide open, perhaps you shouldn’t take it, but it’s too late.  You’ve made your choice.  Now you have to follow it through.  “Why, are you ashamed?  Aren’t you a Gryffindor?  What happened to bold and courageous?  Malfoys don’t shy away; we don’t fear.  But if you do, by all means, weasle away, Fred Weasley.”  You snide.  You know this cuts deep.  His red face is turn pale.

    “Low blow, Malfoy.” You flinch at the use of your last name.  “Bask in your pride, and slither on back to all your friends.”  Cold shivers shoot down your spine.  “I should have known… Slytherins can’t really be good, too slippery.  You have no comrades in Lions anymore.”  For a split second you see his eyes water.  Before you can fully register the liquid, he turns on his heels and rushes out of the the Hall.

    Hermione falls in your gaze.  Her face is bewildered.  You turn, and she rushes up to you.  “Y/N? What happened?”

    “Hermione, butt out.” you say coldly.  You spin around and strut over to the Slytherin table.  A haughty and dignified Malfoy persists for all to see.  Internally, a deep crater remains where your heart once was.  It took everything in you to not grab Fred, apologizing profusely and begging him to forgive you.  You lost your best friend.  

    Your brother smirks at you, and others speak to you.  Their words [“You’re too good for a Weasley.”  “Good you got rid of him now.”  “Will you go with Lestrange?”] are drown out by Draco’s words.

    “Father will be pleased.” He drawls.  “Family holds the highest priority.”  

   Those final five words ring in your head.  Family holds the highest priority.

* * *

    For the Yule Ball, each Triwizard competitor makes a grand entrance with his/her date.  You tremble with anxiety.  What if you stumble in these three inch silver heels.  Not to mention, what if you trip over the flowy green dress that grazes the floor.

    As if on cue, Xander encourages, “Y/N, just hold on tighter if you feel as if you might fall.”  

    “Thank you, Xander.”  you say.

    You tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow, and he leads you both into the Hall behind Harry and Parvati Patil.  Many eyes gaze upon the two of you.  Slytherin royalty practically.  Two powerful families being joined.  You see a few fourth years giggle and point.  Self consciously, your right hand, that was placed on Xander’s forearm, touches your neckline.  You feel the cold silver wire that rests on your clavicles.  It is a necklace that resembles a dragon.  A shiver runs through your body as more eyes glance upon you.  A strapless royal green dress clings to your figure enhancing your physical features perfectly, while sheer matching green fabric dances around you.

    “Breathe,” Xander says.  “And smile.  You look beautiful tonight.”

    Those last words do make you smile.  You turn your head slightly towards his face, and gently kiss his lips.  “You look quite handsome as well, Xander.  Thank you for taking care of me.”

    And just like that you flick your head forward and hold it high, and the fumbling anxious girl has disappeared leaving a sophisticated woman.  As you move to find your seats, you spot Fred by the corner.  He sits with Angelia Johnson, eyeing you.  His eyes flip between shooting daggers and swooning in admiration.  His jealousy is palpable.  Oh how you wish you could have been his.  You glance around seeing Hermione looking absolutely radiant on Krum’s arm.  The Ball is full of dancing and friendly chatter.  The boys guide dances well.  Dumbledore leads McGonagall in a dance, while Filch dances in the corner with his red eyed cat.  Sometime into the ball, you see Krum lean down and place a chaste kiss on Hermione’s hand.  Your eyes catch Fred’s behind this scene.  

    “I’ll be back.” you whisper in Xander’s ear.  

    “Are you ok?” he replies.

    “Yes,” you move to exit.  He pulls you back gently.  He places his lips softly on yours.  You accept, and he parts his, deepening the kiss.

    When you both pull away from each other breathless, you turn to leave.  The sheer green dress swishes as your walk out.  You lock eyes with Fred again.  This time, his eyes are cold.  Anger and jealousy flash in them.  You know Fred saw you passionately kiss Xander.  You turn your gaze in front of you, as you exit the Ball.  Once music fade, your ears are filled with the sound of your heels clattering on the stone floor of Hogwarts.  

     “Y/N.” Fred’s voice stops you as you move towards the girls’ bathroom. 

   “Fred.” you spin around to face him.

    “Why?  Why choose him?” he pleads.  “What happened to all the fun we’ve had over the years?  Do all the days mean nothing?”

    “They don’t mean nothing.  It’s just…” you struggle with your words.  Standing up straight, your Malfoy voice speaks, “I had to grow up.”

    “Oh cut the crap, Y/N,” Fred busts.

    “I can’t do this.” you say moving toward the girls bathroom.  He stops you, blocking your path.  He pulls you into his arms.  His lips slam into yours.  The kiss is sloppy and passionate.  You kiss him back matching his intensity.  His hand comes up to your cheek, and your tongue brushes his bottom lip asking for entrance.  But when his hand comes up to your neck and metal dragon brushes against your throat, you pull away abruptly.  “Fred.” you breath deeply; lips slightly red. “I can’t.”

    “Why?  Why not?”

    “Fred, please, I just can’t.”

    “But why? Y/N…”

    “Fred!” you burst back.  “I had to choose sides!”

    “What?”

    “I chose to stand by my family.  I’m sorry.  You had to have known this was going to come.” you explain.  

    “But we are family.  You are already family!” he protests.  “The fact that Mum has been giving you Weasley sweaters since our second year, that’s proof.”

   Bringing your hand up to Fred’s startled face, you siffle as a tear escapes.  “I’m sorry.  Fred Weasley, I will always love you.  You were my first love.  Thank you.”  you breath deep and remove your hand.  “Thank you Fred. For everything.” you turn and walk into the girls’ bathroom.  Your heart breaks as you lean over the sink.  You look up into the mirror in front of you.   _Who is that girl?  Where did that girl go?_ You ask yourself.  Taking another look you see the woman you’ve become.  The innocent and laughter-filled face with the larger than life grin is replaced by a heavy mask with lips formed in a thin frown.  You smile back at that woman.  The more you look at that, the more recognizable she becomes.  She’s a Malfoy.  One day she will be a Lestrange.  She is a Slytherin princess.  Lions and Serpents just weren’t made to be together.

    Returning to the Ball, you are determined to learn to love Xander.  He deserves it.  He will spend his entire life protecting you.  It’s neither of your faults that you have no choice, no free will.  You’re just sorry that Fred was left hurt and broken.

 

##  7th year

    The seventh year commences with a stark contrast.  Rather than goofing around with your cronies and supplying loads of trouble for Filch, you drift through the corridors of Hogwarts.

That summer, you had taken your place by Xander Lestrange.  The Dark Lord was pleased to see the union of powerful pure families.  This summer revealed that Xander has loved you from afar, way before the arranged marriage.  He had told you that he admired to your stand with the Weasleys on fairness.  He loves to hear you giggle and listen to the musings of your mind.  You love that he protects you from worst of the Dark Lord.  The night that Voldemort returned and lured Harry Potter with the port key, the Dark Lord had no idea that Xander would also be coming through.  Xander witnessed the Dark Lord call back his followers, the torture of the Boy Who Lived, and the cowering of your father.  He promised that he will never cower; he will always protect you.  He proved this when the Dark Lord questioned your loyalty.  Even though he knew you still loved Fred and were only with him out of obligation, he convinced the Dark Lord of your loyalty.

    Your severed relationship with the Weasleys does not stop Hermione and Ginny from talking with you, though Ron and George are both cold towards your breaking their brother’s heart.  Fred has begun to try to catch your attention with stunts and pranks.  You’d only be lying if you said they hadn’t caught your eye, but you had made your choice.  It pains your heart as you remember, Y/N, the girl who joked and pranked.  Who would have thought that it would just take one action to erase that girl completely.  You feel like a ghost of your old self walking around Hogwarts.  The events of the end of the summer weigh heavily on you.

   Dumbledore, being the observant wizard he is, notices the change in demeanour and asks you to his office.  He politely chatters about summers and the beginning of classes, not failing to bring up the return of the Dark Lord.

   “Miss Malfoy, I’m sure you are aware why I have asked you converse with me this evening?” Dumbledore continues.

   “Yes Sir, you’d like to know if I’ve followed in my family’s footsteps and become a follower of the Lord.”

   “Yes, sometime of the sort.  I am curious to see where your allegiances fall.  Y/N it’s been quite a pleasure to witness you grow from a question-filled, brooding childing into a faithful, fair, intelligent young woman.  I fear you are in the minority.”

   “Minority?” you echo.  “For children of Death Eaters.”

   “Yes, but also just children.  I’ve watched many a child walk into Hogwarts the same as you, but leave cold and calculating.  They think they are armed with all the knowledge in the world, but they lack compassion and empathy.” Dumbledore strokes his grey beard.  “And all the knowledge in the world.  No one can obtain that.”

   “My loyalty is with my family.” you blurt.

   “Ah, yes I know.” Dumbledore smiles slightly.  “And what does that mean to you?”

   “Well, it means that I will uphold the family name and defend them to the end.” you say.

   “Ah, the Yule Ball.” Dumbledore says.

   “Sir?”

   “You’ve been promised to Xander Lestrange upon graduation.  Arranged marriage.”  It’s a statement, not a question.  You simply nod, looking away slightly.  “And what of the Weasley boy?  You’ve been practically inseparable since you were eleven.”

   “What about him?” you snap.

   Dumbledore smiles again.  “You tell me, Miss Malfoy.”

   “It’s just that, Professor.  ‘Miss Malfoy’.  I am a Malfoy.  I have an obligation to my family.  I am to continue the line of Pure Bloods.”

   “Yes, and Mr. Weasley is a Pure Blood.”

   “A blood traitor yes!  The Lord would never approve.”  you say instinctively.  Your eyes burn dark.  You mouth tightens to a thin line.  Taking a deep breath, hanging your head, you mumble, “I apologize.”

   “No need for apology.  That is what has been ingrained into you.”  Dumbledore looks you over with his grey eyes.  “A war is brooding.  It is coming, and when it does what side will you stand on?”

   “Excuse me?” your eyes meet his.

   Dumbledore leans forward, staring intently into your eyes from across his desk.  “Miss Malfoy, I’m afraid you’ve already chosen socially.  You will be married to Xander Lestrange.  So the question stands of where will you stand politically?”  Dumbledore pauses, exhaling.  “Will you stand with justice and fairness as you have here at Hogwarts?  Or will you stand with purity and untaintedness as your family has?”  Dumbledore matches your intensity you just displayed.

   “Justice.”  you say without a doubt.  Dumbledore leans back in his chair.  “Isn’t that what we are supposed to learn here at Hogwarts?  To be fair to one another, to be kind to one another, to defend one another.”

   “It is.”  Dumbledore muses.  “I fear, Mr. Lestrange does not deserve you.  What a noble answer.”

   “No, I don’t deserve him.”  you say immediately.

   “How do you mean?” Dumbledore replies.

   “Sir…” you hesitate to tell him.  The Dark Lord would surely kill you if he knew what you were about to say to his archenemy.  “Xander has protected me.  He has protected my family.  And he still knows where my heart lies.”  Your eyes cloud over.

   “Ah, Weasley.  Yes,” Dumbledore peers over at you over his half moon shaped glasses.  “Y/N, if I may, I would like to ask a difficult question of you.”  you simply nod.  “If the Dark Lord commanded you, would you torture Fred Weasley.”

   This question brings pause to you.  You look deep into Dumbledore’s eyes.  You fear he already knows your answer.  

   “I see.  Molly would be proud of your answer.  No matter, she considers you family.” Dumbledore says, sorrow in his tone.  “You tow a hard load, Y/N.” He pauses, appearing to be conflicted on whether to continue or not.

   “Sir?”

   “Y/N, I have a proposition for you, but I need you to hear me out all the way.” Dumbledore begins.  “During the First War, a group of young wizards and witches made their stand.  They fought side by side to rid the world of injustice.”  You can feel your heart constricting.  “Ultimately, Voldemort’s ideals prevailed.  Though Death Eaters were rounded up, most were let go.  Nothing could be proven.  Few actually stood by Voldemort after his fall, most claimed to be under the influence of the imperius curse.  I’ve always suspected that he would return.  This summer has brought this return.  As I’ve watched students come and go, I’ve often wondered if Voldemort were to return right now, who would stand on each side.  Miss Malfoy, you’ve always given me pause.  I have been unsure which side you would choose.  What you’ve told me, just now, has given me that answer.”  Dumbledore pauses glancing down at your left forearm.  “I am confident that you will fight for justice and preservation of life without prejudice.  This group, Order of the Phoenix, will be rebuilt over this next year.  Young wizards and witches will assemble and replace those who gave their life to the First War.  I would like you to be apart of that group.”  If you heart could get any tighter, it would.  But it was already completely constricted.  A pit forming in your stomach.  “To fight for fairness and justice.  To fight for those who cannot.  I believe you hold an unique…”

   You fully interrupt.  “Professor, I cannot.”

   Dumbledore looks slightly stunned.  “But you declared, ‘fairness’.”

   “Yes, Sir.”  your head falls.  “You see I can’t fight for that.  And I am not family to the Weasleys.” a single tear escapes.

   “Nonsense.”

   Your forearm tingles.  “Professor, I cannot.”  Your stomach rolls, matching your action of rolling up the left sleeve of your robes slightly.  You raise it from beneath the table, revealing the angry brand on your arm.  “I have pledged my loyalty to the Dark Lord.”

   Dumbledore doesn’t look surprised.  “I know.”

   “Sir, I had no choice.” you feel the need to explain yourself.  The wizard you admire most now looks upon the mark of a Death Eater on your own flesh.  The words just pour out of your mouth.  “My father… he, he is trying to regain the trust of the Dark Lord.  Potter was right, he did see him at the end of the tournament.  And the Dark Lord has called all his followers back.  He is intent on punishing those who were not loyal, upon the conclusion of the last war.  My father is one of the wizards who got off, as you mentioned before.  I had to take the mark, to save my family, to protect my father.”  you pause, processing the words Dumbledore just said when he saw the mark.  “You know?”

   His eyes gleam with a few tears.  “Y/N, it pains me.  Deeply pains me.  To see your arm.  Your loyalty to your family is unwavering and very admirable.”  He takes a deep breath.  “Professor Snape told me the day after you received your mark.”  Your eyes widened in recognition.  The Dark Lord had always assumed that there was a traitor.  He assumes it to be your father.  But in reality, it’s Snape.  It’s one of the most trusted men in the Dark Lord’s presence.  “He told me that it was excruciating.  No one has taken that long to brand.  Severus worried that it would not work with you.”

   “I did what I had to do.” you say coldly, refusing to look into Dumbledore’s eyes.  You wonder why Snape would allow Dumbledore to tell you this.  You could just run back and tell everyone.  But would they believe you?  After all, the Malfoy name is still being restored to trustworthiness.  Snape was already trusted.  And that’s why… you would be branded a traitor if you spoke this.  Your entire family executed, and then all of this is for nothing.

   “Finished with your inner monologue?” Dumbledore muses watching you retreat into thought.

   “Huh?  Uhm, yes sir.”

   “Just like when you were young.  Professors would always tell me they would have to wait for that voice inside your head to finish talking before they could get a thought in edgewise.”  He smiles kindly at you.  “Do you remember what we were talking about earlier about children growing up?”  you nod.  “Which are you?”

   “I did what I had to do.” you repeat robotically.

   “I know.  And that’s what pains me.  That you had to choose.  Choose between what you believe in and who you believe in.” Dumbledore says.  “That brand… it took such a long time, because of your internal monologue.  Your internal self was battling of what was right.  But I think, despite that what that mark on your forearms says, you still know what is right, what’s fair and just.  As you say, ‘You did what you had to do’.  It does not dictate the way your heart feels.  But that mark, it costs everyone something who wears it.  Do you know what it cost you?”

   For the first time since revealing it, you look Dumbledore straight.  “Everything.”

   He nods his head, silently.  The silence strengthens your answer.  Dumbledore finally pierces the silence, “I regret that I ask you this, but I must.  Will you join the Order of the Phoenix?”  you remain silent.  Your swallow is audible.  “Y/N, I am asking you to become a double agent, a spy.”

* * *

     “Hiya! Y/N!” Fred matches strides with you.

    You simply dip your head.

    “How was your summer?”

    God, couldn’t this boy just leave you alone?  Wasn’t it bad enough having to see him in class everyday? Doesn’t this hurt him like it does you?

    “That’s good.  How’s mine you ask?” Fred grins.  “Ah, thanks for asking Y/N, mine was absolutely horrible.”  This makes you turn your head in his direction.  “See this girl who has been coming to my house for the summer since First Year didn’t come around this year.  I thought we were friends, but she didn’t return any of my owls.  Wonder how come that is?”  As if on cue, the other red headed twin flanks your other side.  “Hey, George, you remember that girl comes to our house every summer, got any ideas why she didn’t come over this year?”

    “Nah Mate, no idea!  Guess she got busy maybe.” George says.  “Maybe ask Y/N.”

    “Nah, she wouldn’t know.  I haven’t spoken to her in months, really all semester.”  Fred snarks.  “Weird, seeing as she is in all my classes.”

    “Shove off Arse.” you say, making your way across the snowy grounds.

    “Oh ‘Shove off” she says!” Fred howls.  “Ooh she talks!  She speaks!”  You ignore them and keep walking.  “George, can you owl Mum and tell her, Y/N speaks?  She can take the noise maker out of the sweater now.”  You move quicker, Fred speeds up with you.  The idea of Molly’s sweaters threatens to release the waterfall.  Just as you round a corner, the stone stairs catch your toes and you fall forward.  Fred gracefully swoops in and catches you, as he always did.  He helps balance you, arm still around your waist.  You turn your head slightly to be greeted by his gentle features.  How you crave the feeling of his… Before you can finish the thought, you lean forward.  His lips are soft against yours.  They are unmoving at first, but greet you openly.  It’s a chaste kiss, testing the waters, as if you were third years again.  You lean in again, and he fully embraces you.  His hand find its way to the back of your neck, deepening the intimacy.  Your left hand reaches up to caress his face.  

   After what feels like eternity, you step away.  His eyes catch on your left arm.  His hand immediately reaches out for it.  “Y/N!” he bellows, as you pull your arm out of his reach, tugging your robe sleeves down further.  “What is that?”

   Before you can reply, Xander comes around the corner.  “Hello.” he eyes the situation.  Both your and Fred’s faces flush, lips slightly swollen.  “Am I interrupting anything?”

   “No.” you say quickly.  “I was just headed back to the common room from Herbology.”

   “No,” Fred say.

   “Ok.” Xander frowns at Fred.  “Y/N?” he holds out his hand.  You take it, and he roughly pull you into a bruising kiss showing Fred who you belong to now.  His hand replaces where Fred’s just was.  It’s not gentle and passionate as Fred’s had just been, but it’s demanding and territorial.  You allow your grief for what could have been to fuel your passion and kiss back matching Xander’s emotion.  Retreating out of breath, Xander puts his arm around you and leads you inside.  As the door opens, you glance back one last time at Fred, who stands there in disbelief.  You are quite sure he saw what was branded on your arm.  He saw who you are, and he would never love you again.  Not now.  

* * *

     Within a month, you give Dumbledore your answer.  Yes, you will join the Order.  Upon certain conditions:  no one is to know that you are working with the Order.  You are a full fledge Death Eater and nothing more.  It is decided that only Snape, Mad Eye Moody the legendary auror, and Dumbledore would know your true loyalties.  It had spread all over the school that you indeed were a death eater.  That you had taken Voldemort’s mark.  The other houses cower in fear or spit in your face calling you a traitor.  The Slytherins triumph you.  Only Xander sees what was really hiding in your face behind your (e/c) eyes.  The grief hid just behind the facade: for a live you could never have.  

    If you’re honest with yourself, it got much easier not having to hide the mark.  Fred and George avoid you at all cost.  In fact, you haven’t spoken to a Weasley since it spread through the school that you were a Death Eater.  In a way it breaks your heart, but you also now have the opportunity to completely move on.  Christmas break was actually quite refreshing.  Tension with your family had died down, and your father was returning to some graces with the Lord.  Xander and you return for your final semester at Hogwarts, more in love than ever.

    You laugh, the brightness in your eyes has returned.  “Xander, don’t keep doing that…” you giggle.  “Xander stop…” Your eyes glean with tear from being tickled so hard.  

    “Ok, so tell me, what the secret you’re hold is…”

    “No way, Bella told me, and I won’t share.” you smirk making a X over your heart with your right index finger.

    “Ah, I always knew there was a good secret keeper in a Malfoy.” Bella smirked in another Slytherin boy’s direction.  

    “Women…” Xander says shaking his head.

    “You know you love this one.” you flirt.

    “Indeed, I do.” he breathes.  You lean over to kiss him.  Your left hand caresses his cheek.  It’s at that moment the Gryffindor gang comes traipsing in.

    “Uhg, here come those brats.” one of the Slytherin’s say, as your kiss becomes more passionate and heated.

    You break from the kiss to find an array of different expressions on their faces.  Ginny’s is pure disgust, while Ron and Harry both look betrayed.  George looks like if he were closer he’d punch the both of you.  Hermione’s displays sympathy, almost as if she knew how hard this had all been on you.  Last, Fred’s, that’s the one that breaks you.  He keeps staring.  But he’s not staring into your eyes like normal.  He hasn’t stopped looking at your left ring finger.  A silver band graces it now, with a diamond surrounded by emeralds sits on the top.

    “Get a room.” Ginny huffs, while George just struts on by, not a word.

    “Congratulations.” Hermione mouths and follows the the red and black headed boys, Ron and Harry.

    “Uhm, well.” Fred stutters.  “Congratulations.” he says backing up.  He never once looked you in the eye.  Actually the last time he did was when he discovered the dark mark on your arm.

    The rest of the school year flew by.  Literally, Fred and George dropped out a month early.  They went out in a bang.  Literally.  Firecrackers, dungbombs, and broomsticks.  The NEWTS come and go, and soon you are graduated.  Xander works at Gringotts, and you, who were slated to become an auror, train directly under the Dark Lord himself.  

 

## Adulting

    “Ah!”  you screech.  You grit your teeth.

    “Crucio.” the Dark Lord roars.  You dodge to the side, nearly missing red bolt.

    “Incendio.” you cry pointing your wand at the Dark Lord.  He conjures a small shield that reflects it back at you.  You deflect with a stream of water from your wand tip.

    “You are getting stronger.” The Dark Lord cooes.  “Crucio, he fires again at you unexpectedly.”  It strikes you directly in the side.  “But still no match for a wizard of my caliber.”  With your body on fire, you wither at his feet.  “Nonetheless, you are a very powerful witch.  Dare I say as powerful as your aunt, Bellatrix.  You do your name proud.  Dark magic flows from your veins well.”

    “Thank you My Lord.” you say, recovering from the curse.

    “Much stronger than your brother.”  The Dark Lord says.

    “Draco is still at Hogwarts, he is not taught the finer arts of Dark magic there.” you emphasis.  The Dark Lord smiles at you.

    “Yes, that is true.” He begins to pace around the dark marble floor.  His footsteps echo throughout the hall.   “On Friday, here, you and Xander will stand with me for a very special evening.”

    “Yes My Lord.”

    “Very well.  You are dismissed.”

    You nod and back up from the hall.  Once outside the hall, you breathe deep.  Your left side aches.  Training under the Dark Lord has been less than painful.  When you leave your family manor, you apparate to Hogsmeade.  Your new home is located there.  For the Dark Lord, it is a great chance to keep an eye on things at Hogwarts.  For you, it’s a reminder that there’s still good in the world.  Just the other weekend, the third years came for their first visit.  You could hear their laughter and giggles out your window that day.

    Opening the front door, you are greeted by a cold empty house.  Swiftly you make your way to the back bedroom.  You peel off the black robes and clothes.  Standing there in just your bra and underwear, you feel so exposed, even though it’s just you.  You stare into the reflection.  Dark circles have made permanent marks below your eyes.  Your whole left rib cage is black from where the crucio curse hit today.  On your right side calf is blue and slightly healing from a few training sessions ago.  You frown at your reflection.  Then you slip on a t-shirt, jeans, and a black leather jacket.  

    You take a deep breathe and return to the streets of Hogsmeade.  A young girl’s voice catches your attention.

    “Hello Mrs. Lestrange.”  you turn your attention to see the younger sister of Crabbe, Draco’s brute friend.  

    “Hello.” you dip your head in acknowledgement and head to Madam Rosmerta’s.

    Stepping in, you remove your jacket and sit at the barstool.  “Firewhiskey.”

    “The usual, eh?” she asks.  You just nod.  Both of you keep your distance, but have a cordial demeanour to one another.  “How was your day today, Y/N?”

   “Another day at the office.” you mutter dropping some sickles to pay for it.  She nods, and returns to wiping the bar down with a cloth.

   “Lestrange.” Snape gruffs, walking up the far staircase.

   “Thanks Rosmerta.” you throw back the rest of the firewhiskey.

   Upstairs, you find Dumbledore and Mad Eye waiting for a report.  You don’t have much to report, except that you once again are being tortured day in and day out. You were being asked once again to torture.  The next time of public torture would be Friday.

   “She is one of the most trusted, if not the most trusted.” Snape mentions.  Mad Eye grumbles something under his breath.  “Bellatrix is quite jealous of you.”

   “Huh… perhaps she’d like to torture and kill more than I.  I’d gladly let her.” you huff.

   “Y/N, you are doing very well.  Just keep us in the loop.  We have one final thing to discuss.  I would like to let one more Order member in on your loyalties.” Dumbledore says.

   “No.” you declare immediately and

    “We’d like to notify Charlie Weasley.  He has been a member of the Order since around the time you agreed to join.  But we think it would be smart to have a wizard outside of the country for you to flee to if need be.” Mad Eye says plainly.

    “And what of Xander, Moody?” you query.  “You’d have me leave him to face the tune of my betrayal to the Dark Lord?”

    “Yes.” he says, both magical and normal eye trained on you.  “He is a Death Eater.”

    “So am I!” you shout.  Taking a deep breath, you turn to Dumbledore.  “No one else needs to know of me.  That was our agreement, when I was a seventh year.”

    Dumbledore sighs, but agrees to your terms.  The meeting closes, and Snape decharms the room.  You leave shouting at him, throwing a few jinxes in his direction.  He scowls at you, as you descend the stairs.

    The outside air is refreshing.  The dusk air begins to fall on the little magical village.  You wander around the streets.  You don’t want to return home.  It’s not that you don’t love Xander, but he is bound to question what happened today.  You don’t want him to fuss over you and your fresh wounds.  You are treated like a china doll at home, and it angers you.  You’re not breakable.  The other night, Xander refused to make love to you.  The bruising that covered your stomach was tender and you’d wince when it was touched.  You just wanted him to make you forget.  Instead, you heard him the next morning in the bathroom.  He was taking care of himself, because he was too afraid of hurting you.  It angered you.

    Breathing in the air, you walk mindlessly.  Your foot catches a stone, and you feel your body begin to fall forward.  As if in slow motion, you feel arms wrap around your body preventing you from hitting the ground.

    “Uhm, thank you.  Sorry.”  you fumble.  “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”  You have no intent in acknowledging this man any further.

    “No problem.” a deep voice says.

    The arms… they had felt familiar.  That voice.  You know that voice.  

    “Mrs. Lestrange, are you okay?” the voice asks.

    You seek out the face of the voice.  A thin face, with dark red five o’clock shadow, greets you.  “Fred?”  

    “Hello,”  He smiles his goofy grin.  “Nice look.”

    “Uhm, thanks.” you say.   Actually, what do you say?  You haven’t seen Fred in over a year.  “You look good.”

    “Thanks, running a joke shop’ll do that to ya.” Fred chuckles.  “Keeps ya young.”  His eyes glisten joy at yours.

    You laugh slightly.  “Ah.” you wince, grabbing your left side.  

    “Are you ok?” Fred steps closer to you.

    “Yeah, yeah.” you wave it off as nothing.  You are now much closer.  If either of you swayed forward, you could just lift your head…

    “Uhm, I should be going.” Fred cuts into your thoughts.  He steps back.  “It was great seeing you.  I’d love to catch up sometime.”

    “Uh, yeah, sure that sounds good.  How about tomorrow at 3pm Rosmerta’s?”

    “Sounds good.  It’s a date.” The red haired boy, man now, says.

    Before you can even think, he whisks away.  You silently berate yourself for agreeing to see Fred again.  What would the Death Eaters think?  Nothing good that’s for sure.  What would Xander think?  He’s been so good to you.  But he is refusing… No!  You will not do that.  Perhaps you will stand Fred up.  It’s not like you’ll see him again.  

    That night, you make up your mind.  Xander has your whole heart now.  The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall back bring Xander back with you.  His hand stabilizes your lower back as you fall.

  ** _##  Smut begins, don’t read if you don’t want to.  ##_**

    “Y/N.” he moans as you break the kiss moving down his scruff.  You kiss along his jawline and move down his neck.  He groans with arousal.  “Y/N, I love you.”

    “I love you too.” you breathe before recapturing his lips.

    “Mhhhmmmm.” he utters as he presses against you.  You moan in response.

    “Make love to me, Xander.”  you moan.  “Make me feel good again.”  He responds quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, and then removing yours and your bra.  His eyes are so full of lust they don’t notice the new mark down your left side.  After all you body is so littered with bruises, it can be difficult to see the new ones.  He cups one of your breasts, earning a favorable reaction as you roll your hips up against him.  You reach down and run a hand over his clothes length.  “No foreplay, just make me feel.”

    He groans in return and slides off you, pulling your pants off, panties and all.  He pulls his off in one swoop.  His length snaps to attention with the lack of confinement.  You lustfully look him over.  He takes a deep breath, returning over you.  He grabs you by the hips pulling you up the bed further.  Just as he’s about to enter you, he grabs your left side.  You try so hard, but you can’t help but wince.  “What?!  Oh,” he immediately with draws his hand.

    “No. No keep going.”  You try and pull him back down over you.  You lock lips with him.

    “Wait, Y/N, what is this?” he asks breaking the kiss.  His eyes, lack the unadulterated passion they once had, they are full of concern now as he lightly grazes over the fresh bruising.  Sighing, “This has got to stop.  He can’t keep hurting you like this.”

    Knowing exactly who the ‘he’ is, you reply, “There’s nothing we can do.  Please Xander.”  You pull his back into a kiss.  You roll your hips against his hard length.  The tip grazes your clit, and you both moan into one another’s mouths.

    “Y/N,” Xander hesitates.

    “Please,” you almost plead.  “Just fuck me!”   You grind up against him, his tip finding its way a bit into you.  You see the look in his eyes, he’s going to concede.  How can he not?  He’s practically ready to fuck you now, he’d have to go jerk off anyway, might as well have the real thing with his wife.

    He goes much slower than you’d like though.  It’s cautious and hesitant.  He thrust slowly in and out.  He stops when he’s fully sheathed inside you.  He lays with most of his weight over you, as if he’s trying to protect you.  Those short deep thrusts hit your spot, causing your walls to pulse against his cock.  As you come close, he speeds up, only slightly though, to climax with you.  You clench your walls around him, as he flicks your clit.  He slides in and out a couple more times, before covering you again, deep inside.  You can feel the warmth that comes out of his length.  His seed fills you, as he sits up still inside you.  When he leans up, he remains inside you.  One hand holding him above you, and the other roaming over your bruises.  

    “I love you.  I’m so sorry this has happened to you.” He whispers tears in his eyes.

    “I love you.” you return, as he slides out of you.

> **_## End of smut ##_ **

    The next few days go by practically the same.  You learn that the Dark Lord really has someone he deems special for you on Friday.  On Thursday you are incredibly tired and make your way to the Three Broomsticks for a firewhiskey.  Settling in, you start in on your third glass when a voice startles you.

    “Y/N.” it says.  Once again, this voice surprises you.  “You came.  I honestly didn’t think you would.”

    You turn and give the red head a weird look.  “Huh?” is all you get out.

    “Oh you didn’t remember.”  Fred shakes his head.  “Never mind.”

    “Wait,” you grab Fred by the wrist. “Sorry, yes we were going to hang out.”

    He glances down at your hand around his wrist.  The engagement ring is now joined with a slim silver band.  “Yeah, I got us a room upstairs.”

    “A room… well aren’t you presumptuous?!” you say a little loudly.

    “No, I got it because I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen in public with a Weasley.” He explained.

   “Oh.” You look down at your glass.  

   “Yeah.” He looks down at his feet. “Just trying to help ya.  You know the Y/N Malfoy I used to know had an image to keep up.”

   You nod slowly taking in his words. “It’s Lestrange now.”

   “Huh?”

   “My last name is Lestrange now.” you correct.

   “I didn’t forget.” Fred says coldly before bowing like his usual goofy self and says, “Shall we Mrs. Lestrange?” he grins,extending his arm towards the stairs.

   You chuckle a bit, drop some galleons and grab a bottle of wine, and proceed forward.  The alcohol of three firewhiskeys taken pretty fast is fueling your courage and riskiness.  When upstairs, you and Fred make some small talk and end up locking lips.  One thing leads to another.  When he removes your shirt, he gasps.

   “Y/N, what is this?” His brows furrowed together as his fingers hover over each bruise.

   “It’s nothing, Fred.”

   “It’s not nothing.  It looks like the cruciatus curse.”

   “It is.” you say plainly.

   “What?”

   You sigh and sit up, wrapping your arms around yourself.  “It is the curse.  The Dark Lord often performs it on me several times a day.”  Fred looks bewildered.  “He is training me in the Dark Arts.”

   Fred gently pries your arms away.  “Does Xander know?”

   “Yeah.  He treats me like I’m damaged now.  Broken!” you snarl.

   “But you are hurt.” Fred gazes the bruise on your stomach, leaving goosebumps.

   “I’m not.  I’m the same.”  You insist.  You grab Fred’s hands in your own.  “Fred look at me.”  He turns his attention from assessing your injuries to your eyes.  “Please, make the hurt go away.  Remind me what feels good.” you beg.

   “Y/N,” Fred looks at you with watering eyes.  “You don’t want that.”

   “I do.”

   “You don’t want me.”  Fred stares into your soul.  “You want Xander to do that for you.” he mutters softly, as to not hurt you more.

   “It’s the same with both of you.  You think I’m broken.”  You rip your hands away from him and scoot away from the bed, searching for your top.

   “Y/N, come here.” Fred coaxes you back into his arms, where he hold you.  At the tight embrace, the feeling of safety, you begin to sob.  You never did grief the life you could have had with Fred.  And here you are, half naked, crying in his arms.

   His strong arms hold you tight against your chest.  He whispers sweet nothings into your ear.  As your crying ceases, you hear him mutter, “I love you.” Looking up at him, you stare into his eyes.  He really does love you; he’s never stopped.  You graze your lips against his in a chaste timid kiss.  He returns it gently.  He proceeds to make love to you that afternoon.  He kisses each and every one of your wounds, before pounding into you with passion you haven’t felt in a long time.  It feels right.  It feels like it was always meant to be, and that breaks your heart.

   Afterwards, he falls asleep and you sneak away out his arms carefully as to not wake him.  Upon entering into your house, you feel something break in your relationship with Xander.  He can sense something isn’t right.  Perhaps it’s your tear stained eyes.  Perhaps it’s your disheveled hair.  Perhaps it’s you swaying as you walk.

   As you enter the kitchen and pull out the bottle of firewhiskey out of the cabinet, Xander comes up behind you.  He kisses the tender part of your neck and then nibbles your earlobe.  “Hi, how was your day?”  Before you can reply, he steps back abruptly.  “You smell different.”

   “What?” you shake your head, turning around to face him.  You scrunch your face in confusion.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Xander.  It’s been a long day.  Let’s just order in food.”

   He leans in again, to kiss you.  “Have you been drinking?”

   “So what if I have?” you say, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

   “Y/N, it’s barely five o clock.”  he tries to justify.

   “And…” you say, leaning into him.  “Just let me be.”  You give him a peck on the lips.

   “You smell like sex.” he says in return.

   At this you pause slightly.  You hope Xander doesn’t notice.  “Yes, we did have sex this morning, dear.”  you snark, taking a swig out of the firewhiskey and settling in on the couch.

   Xander doesn’t question you anymore.  Later that night, you cry in his arms as well.  Perhaps for the fact you cheated.  That you have violated two men that has only ever been good to you.  But perhaps also for selfish reasons that you still grieve Fred.  You grief the torture you will have to perform tomorrow, the life you will probably have to take.  Xander comforts you, knowing that it always takes so much away from you each time.  You try and kiss him, and he refuses to make love to you again.   You know it’s because you are thoroughly drunk, but nonetheless it cracks your heart.  It will never be the same again.

* * *

    “Hello all, today we have a great treat.” The Dark Lord’s voice booms around the main hall of Malfoy Manor.  “Today Y/N Lestrange will take the great privilege of torturing the secrets of Harry Potter out and kill a blood traitor, and Muggle supporter.”  You stand shoulders back in slick black robes.  Xander stands beside you with his hand on the small of your back.  He feels you tense as you the Death Eaters all cheer.  The Dark Lord continues, “Please bring in our honored guest: Department of Muggle Artifacts… Arthur Weasley.”  Your breath catches, as the rest of the hall erupts in cheers.

   Xander senses your whole body stiffen.  “Breathe, Y/N.”

   You try.  You really try.  You can’t.  You can’t breathe.  Your eyes burn.  Have you even blinked? As you continue to stare forward, avoiding the opening door.  You open your mouth to speak, but you can’t.  Your throat burns.

   “My Lord, if I may?” Xander steps forward, taking your wand hand in his left.

   “Xander Lestrange…” The Dark Lord eyes him cautiously.  “What seems to be the problem?”

   “No problem.  No problem at all, rather, may I make a request?”  The Dark Lord extends his hand to continue.  “See, Arthur Weasley make the abominable Fred that stole Y/N from me for almost six years.  I would also like a chance to see he pays retribution for this.  May I also participate?”  you look wide-eyed at your husband.

   The Dark Lord seems to mull this over, rolling his wand between his thin white fingers.  “Lestrange, you make quite a case.  I will allow it, as long as Y/N also permits it.”

   “Yes, My Lord.” you find your voice.  “It’s only fair.  Together we can make a Weasley pay.” you cringe internally at the name.

   “Very well, proceed.”

   Arthur Weasley is brought in, struggling in your father’s grip.  He flicks his wand, and Weasley goes flying to the middle of the floor, bound by invisible ropes.

   “Please, please.” Arthur pleads.   “Y/N, I know you.  You are good.”

   You eyes flick at this.  “Silencio.” And Arthur ceases to speak.  “Very good.  We don’t need your dirty mouth speaking filth in this majestic hall.” you strut forward with Xander at your side.  You try and close your mind to who this is.  But you just can’t.  The silent Arthur just stares back at you, eyes wide with fear.  “Are you ready to be silent?” you reverse the charm, after all the party loves to hear the screams and cries of torture.

   To the rest of the room it looks as if you are planning, but really you were questioning how you could do this.  How could you torture the man who was a second father to you?  Perhaps even better than your own in ways.  Xander leans in, “Breathe.  We’ll do this together.”  He takes your wand hand in his own and slips his arm around you.  “Together.” He leans in and kisses you on the temple.

   “Crucio.”  you both say.  Who’s actually is the one the spell was cast with, you are unsure.  In that moment you love him more than anything for taking a little of the horror and pain from your shoulders.  You can see Arthur screaming and writhing on the floor, but you can’t hear it.  In fact, everything has gone silent.  You only heard the casting of the spell.  You turn around to see the Dark Lord cackling at amusement.  Xander must have cast a Silencing charm on you when he kissed you.

   When Xander releases your hand, you arm drops and your hearing returns.  “That should do.  For now.”  you say blankly, unwilling to look at Arthur.

   “Very good.  Hurt and damaged.  Tortured, but not enough to be dead.” The Dark Lord admires your restraint.  “Pettigrew, take Nagini and take care of him.”

    You finally breathe.  The rest of the meeting goes by in a flash.  At the conclusion of the meeting, you dismiss yourself for a second, and release a patronus.  A red tailed hawk emits from your wand, “Professor Dumbledore, find Arthur.  He’s badly hurt.  Cruciatus curse and possible snake wounds.”

    A few weeks later, your loyalty is questioned by Mad Eye Moody.  He questions whether your loyalty is to the Order or to a particular Weasley.  

    “Had it have been just a random order member, would you have killed?” he had said.  “Did you only hold back because it was Fred’s father?”  You asked how he had known about Fred.  He simply huffed.

    Dumbledore agreed.  Snape said that you showed restraint that you normally didn’t show.  

    “What does it matter?” you snapped.  “I’m torturing people multiple times a day now.  Most of the curses I cast are Unforgivables.”

    No one seemed to argue with that.  When you return home, your loyalty is once again questioned.

    “Where have you been?” Xander asks, sitting across from you at your kitchen table.

    “I had errands to run.” you said.  “Dark Lord stuff.”

    “Really?” Xander questions eyes open wide.  “Snape said you had the afternoon off.”

    “What do you want me to say?” you ask impatiently.

    “Where you with him?”

    “What?!  No!” you shout.

    “I went to Rosmerta’s that day, you know?” Xander shouts.  “The day you came home drunk, smelled like sex and booze.  I asked her if you had been drinking.  She confirmed it.  Said you had had 3 firewhiskeys before going upstairs with a bottle of wine with Weasley.  Why?  Why Y/N?”

    “I didn’t go to him today.” you insist.

    “But you don’t deny going to him?” Xander clarifies.  You simply hang your head.  “Why?”

   You shake your head.  “I needed to feel something.  I needed to feel good.  I’m losing who I am, Xander?”

   “I know.  I’m sorry that this has happened to you.  But you are second command of the Death Eaters now.  You can’t be doing this.  What if the Dark Lord finds out.”  Xander says, grief in his eyes for you.  “We never asked for this, but I’ve tried.  Y/N, I’ve tried to protect you.”

   “I know, I know.” You shake your head.  “I’m sorry.”

   “It wasn’t just that one time, was it?” Xander asked.  

   You shake your head.  “No.”

 

## Final Battle

   This was it.  Dumbledore had been dead for sometime now, and you are fully Death Eater now.  Snape has betrayed Dumbledore, and he has forced your hand.  You had seen Fred off and on for months, but since Dumbledore’s death, you haven’t returned.  There’s no need, everyone who knows your loyalties is dead.

   Dumbledore had once told you that he deeply regretted that you had to take the brand of a Death Eater.  You told him that evening in his office, that you were not a Death Eater.  You were loyal to the Order.  Even then he challenged that, hinting that you’re loyalty was only with the Order because of who was in the Order.  Mad Eye Moody had also questioned this.  Perhaps they were right, but your heart is still loyal to the Order, or rather, it’s loyal to a certain Weasley.  But no one will ever know that.  From now on, you are Y/N Lestrange.  Y/N Malfoy, the vivacious inquisical young girl is dead.  You and your husband, Xander, are some of the most trusted followers of Voldemort.  As Dumbledore once said, you could have done worse.  Xander loves you, protects you, even though he knows that your heart has never been fully invested.  He knew for a few years; Fred could give you something he would never be able to give you, a reminder of someone good inside.

   The end of the Battle of Hogwarts begins when you traipse in on the right hand side of the Dark Lord.  “Harry Potter is dead!” he cackles.  You watch as the faces of the opposing side change.  “Now is the time to declare yourself.”  he pauses.  “Come forward and join us, or die.”

   “Draco…” you hear your father hiss.  You look back, and then around at the Hogwarts students.  

   Your mother is now beckoning Draco forward.  “Draco come.”  You can see the discomfort on his face.

   “Ah, well done Draco.  Well done.”  the Dark Lord embraces him.  “Proving to be strong as your sister has.”  Draco makes his way behind the Dark Lord and behind you to the row of death eaters.  “Anyone else?”

   Neville begins to limp forward.  You heart breaks to see this once timid boy, standing so bravely, but really to join the Death Eaters?  Why, Neville? Your eyes try to plead with his.

   “Well I must say I’d hoped for better.” The Dark Lord says, and laughter erupts from the crowd.  “And who might you be Young Man?”

   “Neville Longbottom.”

   Laughter erupts again, and Bellatrix cackles.  “Well wouldn’t Mummy and Daddy be proud?  Tell me how are they?”

   “Well, Neville, I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks.” The Dark Lord begins and turns to you.  “Lestrange… ”

   “I’d like to say something.” Neville interrupts.  

   “Well Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say…”  The Dark Lord lets the boy proceed.

   Your heart swells with pride at the next few minutes.  Neville delivers a heartfelt passionate speech for standing for the good side.  You only wish you had had that courage.  He says how people didn’t die in vain.  But he turns to the Dark Lord saying that he will die in vain.  Then he turns to you.

   “And you will too.  How we used to admire you.  Now you stand against us.”  As he says this, you can’t stand to look him in the eyes anymore, and your eyes pan over to Fred’s.  They meet for the first time.  His eyes don’t show anger or betrayal though.  They grieve.  

   Neville pulls out the sword of Gryffindor and slays Nagini, as Harry flings himself from Hagrid’s arms.  Chaos ensues.  Harry and the Dark Lord immediately begin dueling, as spells are cast in your direction.  Xander tries to get to you, but you cast a dark shield and half apparate away.  You find yourself in the corridor to the Room of Requirement.  You run through the corridor, searching, fleeing.  You don’t want to fight anymore.  You can’t do this.  You pray for death to find you.  You’ve killed so many.  If Harry does win, you will certainly be sent to Azkaban for the Dementor’s Kiss.  If the Dark Lord wins, you will be second in command of the most evil army.  

   “Y/N…” a voice calls out.  You immediately raise your wand, casting a dark shield around yourself.  “Y/N, stop!”  You freeze and turn around to see a red haired Weasley.  Except this is not the one you expected to see.  “I know.”  You face contorts with confusion.  “I know.  I know where your loyalties lie.  Dumbledore told me.”  Realization floods through you.  At first you are angry that Dumbledore didn’t honor your wishes, but relief fills your body.  

   “Charlie…” you gasp.  “How?”

   “I know everything.  And the Order knows too.” he says, inching closer to you.  

   You shake your head.  “It doesn’t matter now.  I’ve done too much wrong.  I’m supposed to die at this battle.  I have to.” Charlie reaches you.  “I’ve taken so many lives, perhaps my death can attone them slightly.  At least it will stop any more from being taken.”  

   “Y/N, no that’s not the way.  You’ve been loyal to the end.” Charlie says.

   “No I haven’t been. I’ve killed.  I’ve killed so many.  For this.” You rip up the left sleeve of your robe.  “There’s no redemption for me now.  I tortured your father how can you stand here even looking me in the eye.”

   “Dad was the first one to come to your defense when I told the Order everything Dumbledore told me.” Charlie explains.  “He forgives you, Y/N.  Please, come home.  You and Xander can live in peace after this.”. Charlie reaches out for your hand.

   “I’ll never have peace.” But you half apparate away, this time to the corridor towards Gryffindor tower.  You are met by several aurors there.  You lazily cast dark shield that return their hexes at them.  

   “No, stop firing at her.” someone yells.  You turn around to see it, and a curse hits you in the back.  As you fall to your knees, you see Fred running towards you.  

   “Fred.” you strangle.  “Frrreeeddd!!” you shout.  Rodolfus is behind him and direct a curse at him.  Fred falls near you.  “Fred,” you struggle to move closer to him.  The aurors above you are fighting the fleeing Rodolfus.  When the danger is gone, they pull both of your seemingly dead bodies off to the side behind the Gryffindor Lion guard the staircase up to the Portrait.  They wish to preserve your bodies, so no one takes them.

   “Y/N,” Fred murmurs.  “I love you.  I’ve never stopped.”  You struggle to move into his outstretched arm.  “I know you where your loyalties lie.”

   “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.” you struggle to cry out, choking.

   “I know you, Y/N.”  Fred yanks at a chain from around his neck and pulls off a ring.  It’s his Gryffindor ring.  He slowly lifts up your left hand and slips the ring onto over your wedding and engagement ring.  “I love you.  I know you.”

   “I love you.” you breathe out, laying your head on his chest.

   “Turns out a lion and serpent can work.” Fred chuckles a laugh that turns into a cough.  “Y/N,” he goes to tilt your head up.  “Oh…” he sees the glaze over on your eyes.  “I know who you are, and I love who I see.”

    That’s it.  The Dark Lord has fallen.  The Boy Who Lived lives.  Dead bodies are scattered all throughout the rubble.  The remaining living Death Eaters are fleeing and being round up.  But in the midst of the chaos, Xander is running around searching for you.  

    “Y/N!  Y/N!” He cries out.  “Please, where are you?”  He run around turning each body over searching its face.  He rolls over the body of Bellatrix, and screams.  Her face has been deformed from the killing curse that Molly Weasley previously shot at her.  He prays that you are still alive somewhere.  You were one of the biggest targets.  The chance… the chance of you being alive was slim.  But you had survived so much.  How could you not have survived this?  He rushes into the Great Hall to search the bodies in there.  He spots a pack of redheads in the distance and rushes over there.  He nearly steps on a couple laid out together.  The former metamorphmagus auror, Nymphadora Tonks, lays next to the former werewolf professor, Remus Lupin.  His eyes continue to scan the dead bodies, and the connect with another couple.

    A redhead slim figured man lies on the left.  His clothes are bloodstained, but not mostly from him, but from the woman next to him.  The woman who lies next to him is laid curled up.  Her head lay on top of the other man’s chest.  Her left hand reaching up as if to touch his face.  

   Xander’s breath catches.  You’re dead.  You died.  His shoulders drop as he makes his way over to you.  He kneels down and cries.  Lifting your left hand to his lips, he gently kisses it.  He stares down at your hand.  The diamond ring surrounded by emeralds stands out.  Your wedding band is bloodstained and looks to have made an indent deep into your palm.  The new ring that graces your hand is a thin gold band with a ruby embedded within a small Gryffindor plate.  He kisses that ring.

   “Hey Mate, I’m Charlie Weasley.” Charlie comes up behind him and lays a hand on his shoulder.  Xander looks up at him with tear filled eyes.  “I think we should sit down and talk.”

   Charlie explains everything to Xander: that you were a member of the Order, had been since seventh year, that you were a spy for Dumbledore and the Order this whole time.  He also explains that you pleaded for his innocence.  That he was in the same position that you were in.  Charlie explains that Xander would walk free for the rest of his life.  He would not face charges in Azkaban.  He welcomes Xander as a part of the Weasley family.  In fact, since Dumbledore’s death, the Weasleys had secretly come to view Xander as family not only you.  They were looking forward to getting to know him after the war.  But no one assumed that you would die and he wouldn’t.  None of what Charlie says honestly surprises Xander much.  He always knew that your true heart wasn’t Death Eater.  He often feared that Voldemort would figure this out, but he never seemed to.  The Dark Lord was too blinded by your natural ability with the dark arts and your name to notice.  

   Taking this all, Xander returns to your body.  You are still curled up next to Fred.  You look peaceful.  Actually it’s the most at peace he’s ever seen you.  It seems only fitting that you hand holds his ring and Fred’s.  After all, Fred had always had your heart.  Of course, he knew that you loved him.  You did, but you also hated that your marriage symbolized the darkness in you.  He kneels by you one last time, and turns over your left arm.  The Dark Mark is still burned into your sin.  It’s bold and ugly mark seeps into your skin.  He takes out his wand and sucks the ink and dark magic from your limp arm.

   “Goodbye, Y/N.” he whispers standing up.  “You’ve held your names well.  A noble Malfoy, a fair Lestrange, a trustworthy Weasley.”  He looks down at you.  “I love you.  Thank you.  Thank you for everything.  You have saved me.”

 

## Epilogue

    Xander never really befriended the Weasleys.  It was simply too hard, a clear reminder of you.  He went on to work at Gringotts, and he donated all of his excess money to reparations to every family of the people you tortured and murdered.  At the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, he returns.  It’s early in the morning, so not many people have arrived.  He has no intentions of staying, but he just want to find your plack.  Every fallen wizard and witches’ name fighting for fairness and justice was put on a plack by the Ministry of Magic.  He scans the names in alphabetical order searching for you.  He doesn’t find you and wonders if due to the fact you were a Death Eater meant you would not be on this wall.

    He glances around and sees a large bronze and ruby statue of a Phoenix.  Below, a large metal sign reads,  “Fallen Order of the Phoenix Members: These brave witches and wizards fought loyally beside Dumbledore and against Voldemort.”  Smaller stones are stacked below, each hold the name of a fallen member.  It has their name, part in the Order, and who donated the engraved rock.  A tear fall from his eye when he locates an engraved stone with your name.  “Y/N Malfoy Lestrange – Death Eater Spy: Remained Loyal Always, and Died a Silent Hero.”  In small script near the bottom, in a small engraving it says, “I loved you as my own daughter. ~Arthur Weasley.”

**Author's Note:**

> Completely from my brain, nothing really to back this, but I thought it might be cool if a person died, you could remove the dark magic and ink from the Dark Mark. So yeah…
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this. This one has taken me a couple of weeks to fully write. Had to come back several times. It is a bit heavier than what I normally write, but you know I do love angst lol. 
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on Tumblr if you so desire: @musingpredilection [https://musingpredilection.tumblr.com/]


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